The Bookshop and the Junglest

By Robert L Perrine

When a mysterious book appears on the coffee table of Maggy and Ethan’s house, they have no idea of the adventure in store for them. They discover a magical bookshop and its wildly eccentric proprietor, Mr.Catterwall, as well as his geriatric kitty, Achebe. But when the children are pulled into one of the books, they find themselves at the

• Language: English
• Publisher: Perrine Publishing
• Release date: Jan 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733611213

Robert L Perrine

Robert L. Perrine is a chef turned author. He can be found with his constant companion, Pocket--a German Shepherd/Border collie rescue dog. In his spare time, he enjoys gardening, hiking, camping, travel, and reading anything he can get his hands on. He also acts in the local community theater and has played in over fourteen productions.

Book preview

Acknowledgements

Being my first published novel, this book is dedicated to my first fans: my parents. Throughout my entire life, they have encouraged me to take the small bit of writing talent I had and fan it into something real. In fact, a good portion of the novel was written across from my dad while we sat in coffee shops, working on our respective novels. My parents are who I talked to about the ups and downs of the story. They were the ones who told me the hard truths about the story (even when I didn’t want to hear them). They were my first editors and caught things I never would have. They have been with me on every step of this adventure, and I can’t possibly express how grateful I am. Thank you, Mom and Dad. You guys really are the best.

I’d also like to say a special thank you to my cover maker, Kerry Robinson. She is a wonderful artist who was always happy to listen to my crazy ideas and still manage to make a beautiful cover despite my best efforts to mess it up. She has the patience of a saint in dealing with me and out did herself on every detail. If you ever need an artist, I highly recommend searching Kerryillustrated on Fiverr. She is absolutely top notch.

And finally, a special thank you to another author I greatly admire, Lloyd Tackitt. Thank you for helping me traverse the pitfalls of publishing. Your guidance and expertise saved me a whole heap of grief. I can’t thank you enough, brother.

1

Maggy & Ethan

I ’m off to work, kids, Mrs. Marconi said as she popped the lid on her pink travel mug.

The dark Colombian roast smelled strong in the morning air as the kids came down the stairs to wish their mom a nice day at work.

You guys be good today. Maggy, you’re in charge. Look after your brother.

Maggy smiled her most responsible smile, her green eyes dutiful and trustworthy. But, as Mrs. Marconi turned to check her earrings in the hallway mirror, Maggy shot Ethan a sinister smile and exaggerated an ominous wink. The sort of wink that conveyed that this first day of summer would be much more fun for her than it would be for him.

Ethan’s shoulders slumped as he imagined a day being bossed around by his younger sister. At twelve years old, he was full year older than her. And yet, she was being put in charge. Ethan knew that if this order stood, Maggy would take every opportunity she could think of to make his day as miserable as possible.

Awe, Mom. Why does she always get to be in charge? I’m older.

Mrs. Marconi flashed Ethan a sympathetic smile. "Honey, you know why Maggy’s in charge. I’m sorry, but girls mature faster than boys. That’s just the way it is sometimes. You’ll grow up too. You’re just not there yet. If your father were still around, I could stay home with you guys the way I used to. But for now, until he comes back—and I know he’ll come back—he’d never leave us alone if he could help it; I’m trying to keep us afloat all by myself. So I need you to work with me some, okay? I’m doing the best I can. And besides, if I left you in charge, you two would spend the whole day playing on your Kindles. Nobody ever remembers their best day playing on a Kindle. But one day, you will remember your best day of summer vacation. I promise."

She tussled Ethan’s brown mop of hair, causing him to squint and recoil in embarrassment. Mrs. Marconi didn’t let it bother her. Kids were kids after all, and Ethan really was getting too old for hair tussles.

I want you guys to go outside today. It’s a beautiful day. Enjoy it while you can. Summer break doesn’t last forever, you know. One day you’ll grow up and have to work on beautiful days like this. So don’t waste it. Do something. Do anything, within reason. You know what you’re allowed. Just don’t spend the whole day with your nose in your electronics. If you guys go somewhere, leave me a note so I know where you are, okay?

Ethan nodded his reluctant acceptance and sulked with an, Okay, which Maggy echoed in a much happier tone. It was easy for her to be happy, Ethan thought. She got to be in charge.

Mrs. Marconi took a final look in the mirror, making fish lips to check her lipstick and makeup. And be home before dinner. Don’t make me have to come looking for you. Do you need anything before I go?

We’ll be fine, Mom, Maggy assured her. It’s not like the wimpy wonder here ever does anything anyway.

Hey! Ethan objected.

It’s not that what Maggy was saying was untrue. He really didn’t do a lot. And he wasn’t strong. Certainly not as strong as her. He wasn’t into football or baseball. His arms were too long for his body, and his legs never seemed to obey him quite the way they should. He didn’t like going out with big groups of friends. They always teased him about his unruly mop of hair and general sense of uncoolness. Other kids really just sort of freaked him out. He didn’t think the way they did or talk the way they did. So, more often than not, they made him feel awkward. He always felt as though he was outside of their jokes—or worse, the butt of them. But he did enjoy his video games. He wasn’t awkward in his video games. He wasn’t a brainiac or a nerd in his video games. He could be anonymous, and therefore cool. Or at least as cool as anyone could be when the words guild chat were involved. In video games, Ethan was a warrior. And not just any warrior either. He was a level 536 Dragon Slayer, which made him one of the best in the world.

You be nice to your big brother, Maggy. I trust you to be in charge. That also means I trust you to be the mature one. Mrs. Marconi set her coffee on the hallway tabouret. Alright, kids, I’ve got to go or I’ll be late. Have a wonderful day. Stay out of trouble. Call me if you need anything. I’ll have my celly on. She held open her arms, bringing the kids forward to make their goodbyes.

Maggy and Ethan both leaned in, kissed their mother on her cheek, and wished her a nice day at work.

The children watched from the doorway as their mom slipped into her silver Prius, donning the sign: FOREST VIEW REALTY, JANE MARCONI – REALTOR, and then watched as she pulled away. Ethan closed the front door and entered the living room. He skirted the oversized sofa toward the far end table where his Kindle was plugged into the charger. As he reached for it, he felt a hard slap on the back of his head.

Hey! What’d you do that for?

Maggy set back on her heels and crossed her arms. Mom said she didn’t want you playing on the Kindle all day. I’m in charge, so you have to do what I say.

And so it starts. All I want to do is play War Kings, Ethan said, shaking the Kindle in Maggy’s face. What do you care what I do?

Maggy uncrossed her freckled arms and dropped them to her hips the same way her mother sometimes did when she was conveying a voice of authority. Mom said not to.

Ethan flipped open the Kindle and pressed the icon to load the War Kings app. A castle appeared on the front of the screen, with a large bearded barbarian in the foreground. Behind him, a fearsome green dragon blew fire at a castle gate.

Mom’s not here.

Maggy reached for the Kindle, intent on ripping it from the little twerp’s hands so she could hide it from him for the rest of the day. I’m in charge. You have to do what I say. Give me that.

Ethan pulled the Kindle away as her fingers tried to wrench it from his hands.

I won’t give it to you, and you can’t make me! I don’t have to listen to my little sister.

You do too, Squeethan! Mom said so. I’m in charge.

Maggy reached again, grabbing for the device, but he yanked it away before her fingers could close on it. She could see the attack screen on the game now. It only raised her anger more.

Don’t call me Squeethan!

There was only one place this argument could go, and Ethan knew it. Maggy would only try to boss him around for so long before she pushed him down and wrenched the Kindle from him. He had one chance to get his way. He prepared to spring.

"Squeethan! Squeethan! What’re you going to do about it, Squeeeeethan?" Maggy’s red curls bobbed back and forth as she taunted him, daring him to come at her.

Ethan dropped his Kindle on the sofa, leaving the barbarian and the dragon to their own adventure for the time being. He charged Maggy, crashing into her at waist level, driving them to the ground. They rolled and somersaulted until Ethan found himself flat on his back, pinned by his strong, little sister.

Maggy smiled maliciously from above him. Gotcha now, Squeethan.

Get off me! Ethan said as he wriggled to free himself.

Big brothers weren’t supposed to take this sort of abuse from little sisters, but this scene had been playing out for as long as Ethan could remember. Maggy would try to boss him around. He would fight back. She would win the fight. Every. Single. Time. He couldn’t remember even once when he’d come out on top. But it had to happen eventually. Right?

Oh, you want me to get off you? Do you?

Maggy snorted long and deep, making a loud OOOUUUGGGHHHH from the back of her sinuses and collecting the biggest loogie she could muster.

Stop!

Ethan struggled to push her off, wriggling and bucking his hips to throw the bossy little redhead from him. If he could only get to his feet, he might at least stand a chance, but, as always, she held him down with ease. Her freckled face parted its thin pink lips, and a long yellow-green strand of spit and snot dribbled forth, inching and stretching its viscous way toward his squinting face.

Don’t! Ethan yelled, struggling with all his might.

The elongated loogie kept falling, penduluming and wriggling back and forth like a tadpole held by the tail as it threatened to stretch to the point of breaking and loosen itself in a wet gob onto the helpless boy’s face. It hung less than an inch from his eyeball when she made a loud SSSSSSLLLLUPP and sucked it up with a smack of her lips.

You’re so gross! Ethan cried as he attempted once more to roll from under his brat sister.

You want grosh? Maggy grinned through a mouth full of loogie. I’ll give you grosh.

She brought the loogie to the front of her lips again, puckering like she was going to whistle, but what came out wasn’t the happy lilting twittle of Oh! Susanna or She’ll Be Coming Around the Mountain. It was the mother of all phlegm gobbers. This time, she would let the snot rocket drop all the way to the skinny twerp’s face. Just as Maggy started the booger bus on its non-stop voyage bound for all points south, a strange POP! echoed beside them.

Maggy slurped in the loogie, and she and Ethan looked at the same time to see a bright red rectangle resting on the coffee table—innocuous, as though it had every right to pop in wherever it felt like—and patiently awaited the children.

What is that? Ethan asked from the floor, relieved at least temporarily for this distraction.

Ow wou I nohw? Maggy snipped through her mouth full of loogie.

Ethan pushed her up once again, but this time met little resistance. Get off me, Giagantor!

Maggy let the phlegm slide down her throat with a gulp, and instead spat out, Shut up, Squeethan, as she climbed off him, giving him one last shove to the floor for good measure.

Rising beside her, Ethan joined Maggy and peered at the culprit of the mysterious popping sound. There on the coffee table was a book. Not a strange thing to find on a coffee table, but books didn’t usually go pop. They also didn’t usually make a habit of materializing out of nowhere to rest on coffee tables that didn’t belong to them.

The book appeared to be old and valuable, like something found in a glass case at a high-end antique shop or at a rare book dealer. Its soft leather cover was the deep red of oiled dragon’s skin, and despite its obvious age, it appeared to be in perfect condition. Even the spine, which is the first place a book usually shows signs of wear, was unmarred by the crack lines that appear from opening and closing a book. It was of average size—not too big, not too small. In short, it looked like a mint condition print of a very old, red book.

Maggy picked it up and read the cover. "Here There Be Tygers by Ray Bradbury."

Don’t touch that! Ethan’s voice trembled as he spoke. It seemed to him, for being the mature one, Maggy never thought before she acted. She simply did whatever popped into her head. You have no idea where that thing came from. It could be dangerous.

Maggy waved the book in Ethan’s face and gave a dismissive, It’s a book, dummy. What in the world could possibly be dangerous about a book?

Ethan pushed away Maggy’s hand and the book. He wanted that thing nowhere near him. Where’d it come from though? I know it wasn’t there before. I would’ve noticed something like that.

Maggy thought the author, this Ray Bradbury, had misspelled Tigers. He had spelled it with a Y instead of an I. Tygers. Not Tigers. How strange, she thought. But really, the spelling wasn’t the issue. No, the issue was that a book just went pop and now resided in their cozy little living room.

Maggy lifted the cover, feeling goose bumps raise on her neck as an almost imperceptible breeze slid cold down her spine. Her arms produced goose bumps of their own; a gaggle of goose bumps if you will. She almost swore she could hear trees rustling in the wind and smell rain in the air. She gave a slight shudder that went unnoticed by Ethan, who remained focused on the contents of the opened page.

Ethan pointed. Maggy, look. The page … look at the inscription.

Maggy shook off the shudder, trying to clear the breeze and rain smell the way a wet dog would shake water from its coat, and looked at the page she’d opened to. Printed on the inside cover, apparently by the publisher, as it was not a stamp or writing from a pen but actual embedded ink, read the inscription:

TO THE MOST ESTEEMED ETHAN AND MAGGY MARCONI,

THANK YOU FOR FINDING ME! TO RECEIVE A GREAT REWARD, PLEASE RETURN ME TO MY HOME AT:

THE BOOKSHOP

3.14159 DISCOVERY WAY.

WITH GRATITUDE,

ALFRED T. CATTERWALL

PROPRIETOR.

What the … Maggy breathed out, leaving the question to hang as though a simple explanation would be forthcoming.

Ethan looked up from the book’s inscription and focused on Maggy. Whatever this book was, he wanted no part of it. Some things you don’t mess with. Things that are inherently untrustworthy. This book, as innocent as it looked, felt like one of those things. It felt like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. It felt, in fact, quite dangerous.

I don’t like this, Ethan said. I don’t like how it feels. It gives me the heebie-jeebies. Don’t you feel that? Let’s throw it away and be done with it.

If she were honest, Maggy knew, at least at base level, that Ethan was right. There was something about this book. Something that felt, well … off. A small, quiet alarm deep in her mind flashed red, pulsing, PROCEED WITH CAUTION. But unlike Ethan, Maggy wasn’t afraid of a little danger, or even a few alarm bells for that matter. At least not the sort of danger that might come from something as innocent as an old book. A tiger—or a tyger maybe—now that, she might be afraid of, (though she would never admit that to Ethan). But not a book. But there was something. A small itch of somethingness kept niggling at her. And that locked in Maggy’s mind. Dangerous or not, she meant to return the book and find out about it.

"We can’t throw it away. It belongs to someone. See, it says so right here: Return me to my home. Besides, don’t you want to know what’s going on? I mean, how did it get here? How are our names printed in the book? Have you noticed how old it looks? We wouldn’t have even been alive when this was printed."

I don’t think Mom would have even been alive when it was printed, Ethan observed.

And did you notice the address? Maggy continued. "What kind of address has a decimal point in it? Three-point-one-four-one-five-nine? What’s that about?"

So what? Ethan asked as he backed away. Not every mystery has to be solved, you know. Besides, I don’t even remember there being a book store on Discovery Way. This whole thing just feels wrong. Don’t you feel that? Please, we can do anything else you want to. I won’t play my Kindle. Let’s throw the book away and pretend we never saw it. We can go play outside or whatever you want.

Maggy held up the book. No way. We’re taking this thing back and finding out where it came from. Besides, I’m in charge. We’re going, so quit being such a little Squeethan and get used to it.

Ethan knew when he was beat. He released a sigh, knowing if Maggy wanted to go, he could do nothing about it. He could list a thousand good reasons not to, and it would change nothing. She would go, and she would make him go with her. His only decision was whether he wanted to spend time arguing and be forced to go anyway, or to accept it and get it over with. Wisdom being the better part of valor, Ethan chose the latter.

They wrote a note for their mom, saying they were going to The Bookshop on Discovery Way and would be back before dinner. Maggy stuffed the old red book in her orange backpack, along with a couple of tuna sandwiches for lunch. Ethan slid his Kindle into his green book bag, along with a couple bottles of water.

Are you sure you want to do this? he asked in hopes of a last minute reprieve he knew wouldn’t come.

Yes, Squeethan, Maggy said as she pulled her backpack onto her shoulders. I’m sure I want to do this. Now, let’s go.

Ethan sighed again, resigned to his fate. When it came to Maggy’s decisions, he seemed to give a lot of sighs.

They stepped into the world, locking the door behind them, and set out for The Bookshop.

2

COME IN! WE ARE OPEN!

Discovery Way was only a short walk from Maggy and Ethan’s house. People swished past the tree-lined sidewalk, disappearing into and